


These Days of Dust

by Zivitz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Lots of Babies, Parent-Child Relationship, not all of them though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zivitz/pseuds/Zivitz
Summary: A collection of ficbits and ficlets
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Bellamy Blake & Marcus Kane, Clarke Griffin & Marcus Kane
Comments: 92
Kudos: 76





	1. Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> These days of dust  
> Which we've known  
> Will blow away with this new sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early season 3. Abby reflects on her relationship with Marcus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Fen, who brings so much joy just being in my life.

She never meant to fall into bed with Marcus Kane. It was just something that happened one night, all teeth and tongue and frantic against the wall of the Chancellor’s office. And suddenly the problem of the water recycler seemed to be so much simpler. It became a habit, a release valve when things were tense and they never spoke about it but would just share a look and a slight nod and frankly the Chancellor’s office saw a lot more action on the ground than it ever had in the sky.

They just  _ worked _ , though the disagreements were frequent and often fought out against a bulkhead or the couch or the table. Then he went to find her daughter and things shifted in the heartbeat between ‘I thought I’d never see you again’ and ‘I had those same fears’. Suddenly the bulkhead wasn’t enough, and it was less about working out frustration and more about softness in the dark and worries whispered against sweat-slicked skin.

She hesitated to even think of Marcus- because he  _ was _ Marcus now, not Kane- and romance in the same sentence but she was wise enough to know it was true. With Jake romance had been sweet and innocent, shy kisses and hopes for the future turned into a comfortable but loving partnership as the years wore on and they raised their daughter. This… This wasn’t sweet and innocent, but there was no denying the softness in his gaze or the way her heart beat faster when he was near. It was a steadfast strength, tenderness growing from shared duty and trauma and outlook.

It wasn’t the thrilling romance of youth, but the familiarity of an old friend creeping up and taking her hand. It was in the way they communicated with looks, presented a mostly united front, considered each other first. It was mature love, she realized. Marcus and Abby on the Ark never would have come this far. But  _ this _ Marcus,  _ this _ Abby- older and softer around the edges and less sure of themselves- they were turning a volatile spark into something worth tending.


	2. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby stumbles across something she never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in some wonderland of Season 3 where Pike and ALIE don't exist.

Abby stopped short at the sight before her. Why had she come in again? She was sure it would come back to her, but the vision of Marcus Kane holding a new baby had temporarily knocked it out of her mind. He was holding the little thing with one hand, its cheek resting against his shoulder as he absentmindedly swayed them slowly across the floor in a silent waltz. In his other hand he held a pad and was knee deep in status reports. She could tell by the look on his face.

“Marcus,” she whispered, and he whirled around at the sound of her voice. He paused to check the baby was still sleeping, and even from halfway across the room she could hear the sigh of contentment and a small smacking of little lips.

“Hey,” he said quietly, crouching slightly to put the pad on the table as he gestured her closer with a nod of his head.

She crept up on tiptoe and peered at the sleeping face. “What are you doing with a baby?”

“I was having a meeting with Frances and there was some kind of emergency with the irrigation, so I told her to go. I’m only reading reports anyway.” He brushed at the baby’s cheek with a finger and beamed at her. “His name is Adam.”

Abby smiled wryly. “I know, I delivered him last week.” She set her feet flat on the ground and gestured at the bundle. “Want me to take him?”

Marcus shook his head. “It’ll just wake him up, and neither of us are equipped to feed him if that happens. Besides,” he rocked back on his heels slightly, “I’m kind of enjoying this. New life, the first of us born on the ground in over a hundred years.”

“And he likes you.”

He grinned. “That helps.”

She considered them for a moment. “It looks good on you,” she blurted, and cursed herself silently.

“What does?”

“Fatherhood,” she said, figuring she might as well finish her thought.

He stopped short to look at her. The baby grumbled slightly, yawned, and settled when Marcus laid a large hand over his back. Then he looked away. “I used to think about it,” he said softly.

“Did you?” The idea of Marcus Kane, the one she’d known on the Ark, thinking about having a child would have been laughable to her for most of her life. This Marcus, though, transformed from hardened soldier to gentle diplomat. That she could see, and it made something inside her twist with an unfamiliar feeling.

“But I had too much to do, too many people to protect. What good would it have done to bring another life onto the Ark, if we were already floating people for petty crime for lack of resources to punish them some other way?” He began to sway again as Adam began to stir, hoping to delay his awakening.

“I-“

Her response was cut off by a quick knock at the door as it opened, revealing Frances returning to collect her son. She arrived with profuse thanks and offers of compensation, which were waved away with good grace and a warm smile.

She saw the light in his eyes dim as the door closed behind mother and child. This is something he still wanted, she realized, and knew first hand what that sweet weight could do to a person. And the lack of it, as well. She felt a heaviness in her chest and that same twist in her gut and realized she wanted him to have that. He deserved to have a child.

“Marcus,“ she started, and he looked up absently from the pad he’d retrieved.

“You can still have that life. Men can father children well into-“

He waved a hand dismissively. “I made my peace with it a long time ago, Abby. Who would have me now, anyway?”

_Me_ , she realized. _I would have him_. She stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm as he started to turn away. He stilled then, and looked at her. She wasn’t going to offer to have his child, but she couldn’t let him think he was unlovable. That he was _unloved_. She took hold of the front of his jacket and pulled him down as she rose up on her toes and kissed him. It was gentle and soft, and he tasted vaguely sweet to her lips. When she broke away her heart was racing and she didn’t open her eyes because she didn’t want to see what might be in his.

She tried to step away, but he took her hand and pulled it to his chest. He searched her eyes. “Abby,” he whispered, “I-“

She looked then, and what she saw made her surge forward to kiss him again. He met her halfway, cupping one cheek in his hand and bending his frame around her. She was swallowed in his bulk and felt a thrill pass through her as she realized she was wanted as much as he was. This time, she thought as coherence began to leave her, he tasted like possibilities.


	3. This Is The Way The World Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

She was the last face he’d ever see, and he was grateful for it. Her eyes, the curve of her jaw, the streak of silver in her hair showing the stress of those six hard years underground. He had tried to save her from this sight, watching him be sucked into space as they’d both watched happen to Jake. She’d been composed then, resigned, utterly opposite to the beautiful mess she was at his own end. He couldn’t fault her for what she’d done; could he ever fault her for anything? He didn’t think he had the capacity for anything but compassion when it came to Abby. She was the love of his life, and he thought perhaps, in that second when the airlock opened and he felt the air rush from his lungs for the last time, that he might be hers.

* * *

The world was quiet in the aftermath. Or maybe it was just her ears failing to work as she cried and screamed and watched the space where he’d just been. She’d been through this before, but somehow the hole inside her was twice as wide this time, twice as deep, twice as painful. The edges around Jake’s death had been raw and tender, but they had healed- they both knew what would happen to him even if he’d gotten his way and he’d made his peace with that. So, in a way, had she. Even with her part in his death.

But Marcus. Marcus was _unexpected_. Unexpected in his character, in his friendship, in his love. She’d never expected him. His death was equally unexpected, and this, she thought, was something she wouldn’t be able to recover from. She’d managed to get through everything else life had thrown at her these last seven years _because_ of Marcus. He said she was stronger than him, but he’d never realized she was stronger because he was her rock, the foundation on which she had relied throughout every hardship. Now that foundation was gone and she felt shattered in a way that was impossible to repair. How can you mend something when one of the pieces is missing?


	4. Rumours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All this sneaking around is going to get us in trouble."

“All this sneaking around is going to get us into trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Abby, you’re going to have to tell Clarke eventually.”

She stilled as she pulled his shirt over her head. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

Marcus huffed out a short laugh. “Maybe the way you keep coming in late and leaving early? I’m starting to feel like-“ he stopped, and she sat on the bed facing him.

“Starting to feel like what, Marcus?”

He was quiet, tracing his finger along her hands. “Like maybe this isn’t the same thing for both of us.”

Abby put a hand to his cheek, rubbing a thumb across his lips. “It is. Never doubt that.” At his nod, she leaned forward and kissed him. “Clarke already knows,” she whispered against his lips. “She knew as soon as ALIE was gone.”

He looked up at her. “Then why?”

She ran her hand through his hair. “Would you believe me if I said I was worried about gossip?”

Marcus laughed then, a real laugh, loud and too rare these days.

“What?”

“You never heard of the bets going about us?”

“What bets? When?”

“Oh, Abby,” he said, tugging at her hair. “We’ve been the hottest piece of gossip for _years_. Half the people thought we were former lovers, or were having an affair and overcompensating, or were half in love with each other and in denial. Those were just the more popular theories.”

“I’d heard a few comments,” she admitted, “but I never thought they were that serious.”

“A lot of contraband would be changing hands about now, if the Ark were still up and running.” This time it was his turn to pull her close, and goosebumps ran across her skin as his breath tickled her ear. “ _Everyone_ already knows.”

Abby leaned back in surprise. “How?”

Marcus leaned back on one elbow and smiled. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re not as subtle as we think we are. Rumours have been going around camp for months now. Enemies turned lovers is quite the captivating tale, apparently.”

She shook her head. She knew she didn’t exactly have a finger on the pulse of the underground anymore but she was usually more aware than _this_. She fingered the bottom of the shirt she wore before stripping it off. His eyebrows rose dramatically. “I guess,” she said, crawling over to straddle him, “That means I can go back to bed.”


	5. Light in Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Clarke come to a consensus. 4x06

At first she was confused as to why Kane would want to come along on their mission, puffing himself up as Chancellor when she told him he couldn’t- then his face softened and he looked down. _Mom. He’s worried about Mom._

“I know you’re worried about my mother,” she offered. Everyone knew about them in Polis, sharing quarters and holing up together at every opportunity. She wasn’t so deep in her grief over Lexa that she didn’t notice the looks and touches that passed between them. She knew what was happening. But until he stood there telling her what she already knew about a hundred year old rocket that it hit her. _He loves her. **Really** loves her._

“Raven says the rocket’s intact. She’d like a little more fuel, but as long as we get her what _we’ve_ got?” He nodded shortly. “She said she’ll get them both down safely.”

Kane shook his head slightly, sighed, and opened his mouth to speak-

“We have to _try_ ,” she said, willing him to understand that she was just as worried about her mother’s part in this as he was. The thought of her mom going up to space in anything, let alone a hundred year old ship, scared the hell out of her. But Raven was piloting, and if anyone could do it, it was Raven. She had to have faith.

He nodded slightly and looked dejected but accepting. She frowned, knowing what it was to be separated and not know if there would be a reunion at the end of that separation. It was weird to know that Mom was with _Kane_ of all people, but Dad was long gone and she couldn’t begrudge Mom her bit of happiness. And her happiness meant, to a great extent, Kane’s happiness too.

She took a deep breath and ducked into his line of sight. “I’ll send her your love.”

“Yes,” he said awkwardly, and nodded. “Do that. Please.” Kane’s frown smoothed out. “And I’ll make sure there’s something left to save… when you get home.” He smiled slightly at her, and she nodded. Then he did the last thing she expected.

He hugged her.

Marcus Kane moved forward and tentatively put his arms around her, holding her and resting his head against hers. For a moment she didn’t know what to do- but then she put her arms around him and gave in to it. She squeezed her eyes closed as she held him close, burying her nose in his jacket and inhaling the scent of leather, gunpowder, dirt, and sweat. He smelled not unlike Dad when he’d been climbing around in the guts of the Ark, and it occurred to her that this was as close to a fatherly hug as she was ever likely to get again. She squeezed again as tears began to form in her eyes, and released him.

He took her cue and stepped back, looking a little awkward. “Thank you.”

She wiped at her eyes and laughed a little. “For what?”

He waved a hand at himself. “For being… accepting of me. This thing with your mother, neither of us meant for it to happen. It just did. And I know that can’t be easy for you, especially because of who I am. Who I used to be.”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not,” he said earnestly, and she began to see how her mother could fall for him. His demeanor had changed so much since the Ark, all of his sharp edges softened and no trace of the cold and aloof rule-bound Kane she’d grown up half-fearing. This Kane had a kindness in his eyes that she’d never seen before, and she wondered how much of it was being on the ground, and how much was due to her mother’s influence- either direct or indirect.

“Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s not nothing. Maybe it hurts a little to think that I’ll never see them together again, that she’s moved on from Dad. Every child thinks their parents will be together forever, but I’m not a child any more. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done… Kane, Mom finding happiness isn’t something I can bring myself to be upset about. Maybe it’s that I’ve loved and lost, and loved again. I can’t begrudge her that same experience. We need to build bridges, not burn them.”

Marcus regarded her, then lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile. “Then maybe you should start calling me Marcus. Since we’re-“ He paused, and she could read the hesitance on his face.

“Family,” she supplied with a small smile, and he exhaled a breath she hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.

“Yes,” he said. “Since we’re family.”

They both took a moment to let the word hang in the room as their worlds reshaped in the face of that admission. Then there was a commotion in the corridor and the moment broke. “I have to go see how the loading-“

He nodded. “Of course.”

Kane- _Marcus_ -started to turn toward the desk and stopped. “I’ll never be him,” he said, meeting her eyes, “And I would never try to be. But please know you can always come to me with anything.”

She impulsively reached out to catch his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re a good man, Marcus. Mom is lucky to have you. And so am I.”

She let go then, and walked out of the room thinking about how her definition of family had changed in the last year. Marcus Kane as a member of her family was never something she could have foreseen, but it seemed… right, somehow. She let herself wonder, as she approached Roan in the courtyard, what family might look like in the future.


	6. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another first snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel of sorts to (W)interlude. It's referenced but you don't have to read that to understand this.

It was had started snowing as he’d crawled into bed the night before, and as soon as he woke to a quiet room he knew where he’d find her. He dressed hurriedly, wondering how she’d managed to sneak out without him hearing- he must have been more out of it than usual. He pulled on his boots and opened the door to the still corridor. It was early yet, and that hush that comes with snow had fallen over their settlement.

She turned as the outer door squeaked open. “Good morning!”

Finding her outside at the first snow had become a ritual since that very very first snow they’d experienced on the ground. He’d found her in various states of physical preparedness, outside in the first slushy snows and the windy rain-turned-snow, sometimes at night when the stars peppered the sky and sometimes in the afternoon when she should have been in medical.

But this year was special, the most special first snow there could be. More special even than the first they’d ever experienced.

The snow crunched underfoot as he approached, noting with approval the extra blanket wrapped around Abby’s shoulders and held together at the front. He peeked over her shoulder to find the wide eyes of their daughter blinking back at him.

“How is she finding it?” he asked, brushing a finger along the baby’s cheek and being rewarded with a smile in return.

Abby laughed. “Honestly I don’t know that she cares. But I do.” She hefted the little bundle higher, and Marcus adjusted the blanket around the two people that made up his whole world. The snowflakes were large and soft and gathered on the blankets in clumps. One fell on the baby’s nose and they laughed as she went cross eyed trying to see it, then squirmed in her wraps. Abby brushed the melted snowflake away with her thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just snow.”

“I’m not sure she likes it much,” he commented.

“She’ll learn. Next year she’ll be old enough to play in it and we’ll go crazy trying to keep her from eating it by the fistful.”

It seemed impossible to him that this little bundle of dark hair and wide eyes could ever get big enough to toddle around in the snow, but he knew it would happen and faster than he would like. He’d seen children grow up before his eyes and until now had never appreciated the pain as well as the beauty that parents must experience. The pain and beauty that was now his to share in.

Abby leaned back against him and he took her weight gladly. “I love the first snow. It’s just so beautiful.”

“It is,” he agreed, bending down to kiss her reddened nose. “But my favourite part has always been warming up.”

She nudged him with her shoulder, cheeks pinking slightly from a little more than cold. “Marcus, really.”

He wrapped an arm around her middle, the other coming to rest on hers as it supported their infant. “It’s almost time for her breakfast anyway. Come inside. I bet the bed’s still warm.”

She hesitated. “It’s her first snow.”

“It is. And she’s seen it, been in it. Tasted it,” he added, as the baby yawned and then looked up at them in surprise as she tasted the bite of her first snowflake. “Come back to bed, both of you.”

Abby looked up at her husband in all but name and smiled. She couldn’t deny him this, precious time with the three of them in bed. It came along so seldom as winter had approached. “Fine,” she said. “But you get diaper duty and I’m taking a shower.”

“Done,” he said, taking their child and resting her against his shoulder. “C’mon, Papa’s going to get you all settled.”

Abby slipped her hand into his free one as she had years ago on their own first snow, and let him lead her back into the warmth.


	7. Monthly Subscription

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Abby is having a bad day and Marcus leaves a cup of her favorite grounder tea on her desk in medical. She knows it was him because it was a specific blend that Indra had introduced him to in Polis on a recent visit and only he knew where to find it..
> 
> So, not quite what the doctor ordered, but hey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between s2 and s3.
> 
> I'm a dork and this is nettle and chamomile and yes it works.

For the third month in a row there was tea on her desk, and she was somewhere between touched and disturbed.

The first day had surprised her; she'd come into medical and nearly knocked over the mug filled with steaming liquid when she tossed her jacket on the desk. She's been in a bad mood that day, cramps having woken her before dawn and not willing to use any of their critical pain relief on something she could power through. So she'd gotten up early and had some quality time with a skin full of hot water before starting her day in earnest. And there on her desk had been that cup of something hot and grassy with little yellow and white flowers in it. She’d smelled it, taken a sip, and when nothing happened after twenty minutes she drank the rest while it was still somewhat warm.

She’d come in again the next day to find the same thing, and this time drank it hot, letting it seep into her bones and carry away as much of the physical stress as she could give it. The third day she was feeling better, and the tea at her desk made her smile. The fourth day, she was almost disappointed to find her desk empty. Then the fifth and sixth and seventh day passed without any tea and she shrugged it off as some anonymous kindness. Jackson  _ said _ he didn’t know anything about it, and she was willing to let sleeping dogs lie.

Roughly four weeks later, she found another cup of tea on her desk. She frowned at it, but it was pleasant enough and she’d really have to ask Jackson where he got it. It was the same, three days of tea and then it stopped. This time when she cornered him, Jackson insisted he didn’t know where it came from, that he didn’t think they had that tea in their medicinal stores, and that frankly he was a little concerned that someone was able to make it to her desk without him seeing.

This morning she’d awoken to the familiar pain  in her lower abdomen and rolled out of bed swearing at the mess she’d have to clean before she could get to work. She left her sheets to soak and dressed hurriedly, already late for her shift and not wanting to make Jackson wait any longer than he had to.

There was the tea on her desk, and suddenly it clicked. Three days, the  _ first _ three days, three months in a row. A faint flush crept up her neck, even as she told herself that it was nothing to be embarrassed about. Still, someone knew and with Clarke gone and Jackson denying everything she couldn’t fathom who it could be. 

S he was walking down the hall back to her quarters when Bellamy caught up with her asking about vaccinations. 

“Oh, is that the tea Indra sent?”

Abby stopped. “Indra sent this?”

“Yeah, she gave a bunch to Kane. And then...”

She didn’t hear the rest. She wanted the floor to swallow her up. Kane. Of course he’d figure it out. 

_ "I’m tracking everyone, Abby" _

Apparently that wasn’t the only thing he was tracking, and a hysterical laugh bubbled up inside of her.

“Abby?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, Bellamy. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” She patted his arm and turned toward the courtyard. He’d be running drills this time of morning.

Her pace slowed as she neared the doors. What would she say? What  **could** she say? How to thank him without making it more awkward than it already was? She pushed through the doors and just leaned against one of the outbuildings to watch. He walked the line of recruits, correcting stances and speaking in low tones to some while shouting at others. She sipped her tea and watched him work. What a strange man he was. Hard and unmoving yet willing to hear and understand. And kind and discreet, apparently.

One of the recruits nodded in her direction, and Marcus- because he  _ was _ Marcus now- turned to look at her. She lifted her cup at him in salute and smiled wryly as the colour crept into his cheeks. He nodded shortly at her and turned back to his men.

The next day, there was a pouch  of dried leaves and flowers on her desk.


	8. Disquiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Marcus got injured lightly while training and Abby is at his side immediately like a worried (almost-)girlfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in early s3.

Abby had hoped the days where she felt her heart stop were behind her. There were intermittent reports of Clarke, and while she wasn’t sure she’d stay safe she knew she was alive. For now, that was all she needed to feel right with the world.

Then they carried a half-conscious Marcus Kane into medical, and for an instant she had that feeling again. Her heart was like a rock in her chest, unmoving, and time had become nothingness. Then with a painful thump everything started back up again and she was directing them to a bed by the far wall.

She hoped Jackson was taking details because her brain wasn’t getting nearly enough information. She heard words like ‘animal attack’ and ‘stray bullet’ and her ears were full of cotton wool as Jackson barked orders to the trainees. He must have seen the look on her face and known before she did that she was going to be useless here.

“Abby!”

She jolted at the sound of her name and found Jackson looking at her. They were alone. “I need you to monitor his vitals. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” she said, grateful for something to do. Never mind that it should be one of the trainees doing it, not the senior doctor. “Thank you,” she said quietly, as one of the others returned.

Jackson nodded, then muttered “Kane? Really?” at her out the side of his mouth as she stood beside him. She shot him a look that said “mind your own business” before turning to the monitors and letting out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. The numbers were good; a strong rhythmic heartbeat, good oxygen saturation, his blood pressure a little high but that was to be expected.

Marcus turned his head this way and that, wincing at the bright lights above him. Abby gently brushed the hair out of his face and held his head steady, shielding him from the worst of the light by standing over him. “It’s okay, Marcus, you’re safe.”

He blinked several times, looking confused. “Abby?”

She smiled softly, rubbing a thumb across his cheek. “It’s me. Can you tell us what happened?”

He frowned. “Um. We were out in the woods training. Something was coming, Something big. There was a shot- I remember falling- God, my head hurts.” He lifted one hand and braced his temples between his thumb and middle fingers.

Abby looked at Jackson, who nodded. “Someone got a little eager with their gun, and you got grazed by a bullet,” he said casually, as if Marcus hadn’t been _shot_. “But you tripped over a root on the way down and bumped your head.”

“Ugh,” he moaned hoarsely. “I bet it was Collins.”

_There_ was Marcus. Abby’s heart beat slowed marginally, and nodded at Jackson. She could take it from here. 

“I couldn’t tell you,” she said, flicking her pen light in and out of his eyes to check his pupils. “But I’m sure one of your people can.” She palpated the back of his skull gently, finding a large knot on the upper left side, and he winced as she ran her fingers gently over it. 

“Ow.”

“Headache? Nausea, double vision, ringing in the ears?” 

“You know I do, yes, no, and no.”

She stood back, satisfied. “Looks like you’ve got a mild concussion. You’re lucky it’s not worse.”

“Does that mean I can go?” he asked hopefully and she laughed, the sound high and not quite right to her own ears.

“It means you’re here for observation for the next 24 hours.” She pulled a chair up to his bedside and sat down, content to look at him.

He raised his brows,  then winced, quickly closing his eyes . “Are you going to observe me personally?”

She tilted her head to one side. “For a while.”

Marcus sighed at the ceiling. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You’ll make time,” she said firmly, hesitating slightly before taking his hand in hers. He looked over at her. 

“You scared me,” she admitted. The adrenaline was leaving her system and she felt more drained than she had in- well, not long enough. 

“I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically. “I’ll try not to get accidentally shot again.”

She rolled her eyes and  released a held breath, dropping his hand as she got up from her chair. God, she was such an idiot sometimes. She thought they’d been moving toward something, but if this was how he was going to react-

“Abby,” he said, sitting up to grab her hand as she started to walk away and wincing at the sudden movement.

“What?” She turned back to him, testy now.

He squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to get shot again.”

She nodded, squeezing back. “I’ll be back in 20 minutes. You should rest.”

He released her and eased back onto his pillow. “Can you at least turn the-” he sighed thankfully as she turned off the overhead lighting by his bed.

“Try to stay awake if you can. Twenty minutes.”

“Looking forward to it,” he mumbled, and she didn’t see the soft smile on his face as he watched her retreating form.


	9. The Road Not Travelled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not often you get the chance to open a door you thought was closed. AU from s3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY THANKS to Kelly who held my hand through this. Love you, chica.
> 
> Also, if you're wondering, her name is Delilah.

He was more tired than he thought possible. The early days on the ground when he was running scared and barely slept, fighting the Grounders, getting into Mount Weather, the miles and miles of hikes and patrols he’s walked since Arkadia settled into peace with the Coalition- all of it put together doesn’t even come close. He wonders if it’s possible to die of it, wonders for a second if it would really be that bad to die because it was _like_ sleep, wasn’t it? 

Then there was a slight sigh from the baby on his chest, and the thought was gone. Dying was easy. Living was the point. _She_ was the point. His hand moved slowly up her back and gently cupped the back of her head as she twitched and shifted, eventually settling back into a doze he hoped would last long enough for him to get some sleep. He concentrated on the feel of her skin against his chest, the slight rise and fall of her breathing, the small movement of her cheek against him as she moved her lips in her sleep. It was hard to believe she was real, that she was here, that she was _his_.

Bellamy turned his head slightly as the door opened, half on alert, and relaxed when he saw who it was.

Marcus Kane was an odd visitor to have, but not unwelcome. Especially when he came bearing something that smelled good enough to make him remember it had been too long since breakfast.

The older man smiled softly at the scene before him as he whispered “Where do you want me to put this?” 

Bellamy wrinkled his nose. “Would ‘in my face’ be too forward?” 

Marcus chuckled gently and set the food down on the nearest flat surface, pushing aside some half-folded diapers to make room. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

The young man looked down at his daughter. Was it worth it to try and move her? But he had to eat. If he didn’t his growling stomach might wake her anyway. He hesitated slightly, then looked to his elder. “Can you hold her while I eat?”

Marcus’s mouth dropped open slightly, ready to demur, but he _had_ asked. “Of course,” he said instead. “Where do you want me?”

But Bellamy was already on his feet, pointing to the rocking chair he’d just vacated. Marcus quickly wiped the sweat from his upper lip, smearing it through his moustache, and sat, holding his arms out for the newest member of Skaikru. Her father transferred her with a gentle deftness and he had to remind himself to breathe. Like a horse, she’d sense his nervousness and react. He took a deep breath and tried to relax, taking time to feel the slight weight against him.

Satisfied they were settled, Bellamy stretched his arms above his head and twisted his back, feeling amazing relief in the popping of his joints and cracking of his back. He investigated the container on the table, finding several servings of stew still steaming. Without standing on ceremony he brought the entire bowl and a spoon with him as he sat on a straight backed chair opposite his daughter and his- what, exactly? Chancellor, yes. His superior in several ways, definitely. But also his mentor, someone who took him under his wing when he didn’t even know he needed someone. A father, even. 

Maybe. His daughter’s birth had made him terribly introspective.

There was another soft chuckle, and Bellamy looked up from shoveling stew into his mouth. “What?”

“You’re not on patrol, Bellamy. Take some time to relax.”

“Sorry,” he said, feeling chastised. He _did_ feel a lump in his chest he was pretty sure was a chunk of venison. Maybe slowing down wasn’t a bad idea.

“It’s okay to stop and enjoy things from time to time.”

Bellamy snorted into his stew, then remembered himself. “Sorry, sir. It’s just, hearing that coming from you-”

Marcus smiled, something he wasn’t used to seeing directed at him. “I think we can drop the ‘sir’ at this point, Bellamy. At least off-duty.” 

“Yes, sir,” he said automatically, and paused slightly. “It may take some getting used to,” he said with a small smile of his own.

“I expect it will.” He looked down at the infant on his chest, then back at the young man opposite him. “You’ve been doing a wonderful job, Bellamy.”

“Thank you,” said Bellamy around a mouthful of stew. He swallowed hard and gestured to the baby. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“After Octavia,” he said thoughtfully. “I thought this would be easier. I mean, she’s not a secret to be hidden away.” He blinked into his stew. “But I’m so tired. She needs so much. And I want to give it to her- _everything_. I want her to have everything. I’m just not sure I have it to give.”

“It’s natural to want your children to have everything, Bellamy. But sometimes all you can give is what you have.”

“And what if it’s not enough, si- uh, Chancellor?”

The older man smirked lightly. “I think we’ve known each other long enough that you can call me Marcus,” he said. “You’re a grown man, not a child.”

“...even if I feel like one?” the younger asked into his bowl.

The baby mewled in her sleep, bunching up her arms and stretching out her legs before relaxing once again, and Marcus pushed his foot gently against the floor, rocking them back and forth and shushing in what he hoped was a soothing way. He was rather enjoying his time with her, and with her father. And there were things that still needed to be said.

“I can’t give you advice about being a father,” he said at last. “That’s a road I left untravelled. But I do know that the worst part of being an adult is thinking that there must be some way to do it. Someone to tell you how to act or how to be. There will always be times when you look around for an adult and realize after a moment that it’s _you_ . You _are_ the adult. And you’ve been one, for better or worse, much of your life already Bellamy Blake.” Marcus paused to place his hand on the baby’s back, taking a moment to marvel at her small features. “For that, I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to make sure your daughter has time to be a child.”

Bellamy wasn’t sure what to make of those words, so he put aside his bowl and spoon and aimed for the low hanging fruit. “Why didn’t you? Travel that road?”

Marcus huffed a laugh, “Why didn’t I have a child? Because I knew what the Ark was facing. I knew how dire things were. And where others saw hope in their children, I saw only a desperate future with more problems than solutions. Especially when my job- my _duty_ \- was a symptom of the greater disease. How could I have what I took so regularly from others- and have that risk, too, that I might one day have to float my own child? No,” he said almost to himself, “That was never for me.”

The younger man took in this information with new understanding. Facing that sort of risk, he suddenly understood the anger on Kane’s face the day they’d come to arrest Aurora Blake. Anger that she added to the problem while he sacrificed to try and lessen it.

Bellamy rubbed his forehead, placing his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. Since they were having this talk anyway… “Why did you take the job, then? Why go that route. Why let everyone hate-” he stopped himself, but Marcus just nodded.

“Hate me? Because someone needed to do it. And I had the strength to make the decisions and carry out the orders.”

“We carry the burden,” Bellamy murmured softly, “So they don’t have to.”

“Yes,” he said simply. There was a moment of silence, and the two men listened to the sounds of the village outside, the whine of a small child, orders being barked, the noise of animals and hum of insects.

“I’m sorry,” said Marcus into the quiet, “That I floated your mother.”

The younger man made a fist. He’d never expected to hear those words, not from Kane. But from the man in front of him- Marcus, his mentor- he found they soothed the rough edges of a wound well on its way to healing. He released the tension in his body and let his hands hang limp. “Thank you. But my mother was selfish, and she knew what she was getting all of us into. I’m just not sure how she expected it to end. The more I think about it, the less I understand how she could do that- not just to Octavia, but to me.” 

He reached out and touched his daughter’s head. “I’m sorry you never got to have this,” said Bellamy, gesturing at the baby blinking herself slowly awake. 

Marcus craned his head back to get a look at her, his beard brushing the thick hair on her head. “In a way I feel like I do,” he said, with some humour in his voice. “I have a whole village out there depending on me for food in their bellies and a roof to sleep under at night. Though thankfully,” he said as he patted the infant’s bottom, “Diapers are not part of my responsibilities.”

Bellamy laughed as he prepared to change the baby. Taking his daughter from Marcus, he held her high and grinned up at her. “A village is not quite the same though,” he said, pulling her close before laying her on the table.

“No, not quite.” Marcus was quiet, watching Bellamy work. “But there is someone very close. He’s not a child anymore, was never _my_ child, but he is very dear to me.” Bellamy’s motions slowed as the other man’s words filtered into his brain. He finished pinning the diaper as Marcus stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“You once told me not to call you son, so I won’t.” He hesitated. “But the affection is there, regardless.” He nodded shortly and turned away. He was almost to the door when Bellamy’s voice made him stop.

“Marcus,” he said, and the older man turned. “Thank you. I-” he glanced around the room, as if he would find the words hidden somewhere. "Me, too," he said lamely. "I mean, if you wanted to call me- I wouldn't mind." 

Marcus smiled and ducked his head slightly before disappearing into the corridor.

Bellamy looked down at the baby in his arms, her little face starting to turn to and fro as she sought what he couldn’t provide. “Looks like we have more family than we counted on, little D.” He offered her his pinkie as he once had for his sister, and she latched on. They had at least a few minutes before food arrived, and he hoped her good mood would last. He began to sway slightly, she startled as he laughed at the thought that had suddenly come to him. 

“I wonder if he’d let you call him Grandpa.”


End file.
